I was afraid of looking into my heart…afraid of thinking seriously about anything…I did not want to know whether I was loved, and I did not want to admit to myself that I was not loved.
IVAN TURGENEVSternly, remorselessly, fate guides each of us; only at the beginning, when we’re absorbed in details, in all sorts of nonsense, in ourselves, are we unaware of its harsh hand.
More Ivan Turgenev Quotes
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Everyone needs help from everyone else.
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It’s all romanticism, nonsense, rottenness, art.
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No matter how often you knock at nature’s door, she won’t answer in words you can understand–for Nature is dumb. She’ll vibrate and moan like a violin, but you mustn’t expect a song.
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The past was a dream wasn’t it? And who ever remembers dreams?
IVAN TURGENEV -
Nature is not a temple, but a workshop, and man’s the workman in it.
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I was as happy as a fish in water, and I could have stayed in that room for ever, have never left that place.
IVAN TURGENEV -
Sternly, remorselessly, fate guides each of us; only at the beginning, when we’re absorbed in details, in all sorts of nonsense, in ourselves, are we unaware of its harsh hand.
IVAN TURGENEV -
Bazarov drew himself up haughtily. “I don’t adopt any one’s ideas; I have my own.
IVAN TURGENEV -
I believe love produces a certain flowering of the whole personality which nothing else can achieve.
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You may live a long while with some people and be on friendly terms with them and never speak openly with them from your soul.
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People without firmness of character love to make up a fate for themselves; that relieves them of the necessity of having their own will and of taking responsibility for themselves.
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The fact is that previously they were simply dunces and now they’ve suddenly become nihilists.
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Significance is sweet.
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Nothing is worse and more hurtful than a happiness that comes too late.
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Love isn’t actually a feeling at all–it’s an illness, a certain condition of body and soul…. Usually it takes possession of someone without his permission, all of a sudden, against his will–just like cholera or a fever.
IVAN TURGENEV






